Your hands are cuffed.

The smell of ammonia brings you around with a start. Your eyes snap open, and then rapidly close again. The room is brightly lit, but you can't tell much more than that. You look down and try to open your eyes again, letting them adjust for a moment. You are sitting in a wooden chair and feel metal restraints on the skin of your wrists and ankles. Your arms are pulled around behind the chair in an awkward, uncomfortable way and a pair of handcuffs keeps them there. You see a short chain passing between your ankles, forcing you to keep your feet together. Your mind begins to take all this in and your heart beats faster. You struggle against the binds as you begin to groan and cry out in fear, remembering the gun and the car.

"Quinton?" You hear that crisp, commanding voice of the driver once again. "Calm down. We're not going to hurt you." You manage to look up and see the two figures from the car as the blinding white fades to reveal your surroundings. The man has removed his jacket and you spot the revolver in a holster under his left shoulder. His arms are crossed and he is eyeing you closely. The woman, Kelly, you suppose her name was, though you can't be sure it was genuine is bending over a bag that lies open on a table on the other side of the room. Getting a clearer look at her now you see she looks like she might be in her mid twenties, wearing loose fitting pants and some sort of black work shirt. On her feet she wears a pair of heavy black boots. You see the tattoo that runs the length of her arm again as you observe her hands digging around in the bag. The furnishings of the room are spare and you see a sheet draped over what appears to be a window. The afternoon sun is still shining through it. Your attention is drawn back to the man as he speaks in a rough, capable voice.

"We just want to talk Palmer. The restraints are to keep you from doing anything rash, just a precaution." His voice is calm and direct, but not aggressive. Like he's reading items off a grocery list.

"Who the fuck are you people!" You finally find the capacity for words once again. You renew your struggle against the bonds.

"Stop wiggling, you'll just fuck up your wrists." The woman speaks again. She seems to exercise some unnatural power over you as you freeze in place. She stands up again and you're eyes widen when you see she's holding a syringe.

"Fuck, No! Shit! FUCK!" You start to panic and struggle once more with renewed energy. The woman steps forward and puts a hand on your chest.

"Calm down." She says and once again you feel compelled to listen, looking into her eyes. At first as if from far away you hear the voice of her companion, then it comes into focus as you break the stare with Kelly.

"We need to give you something to counteract the effects." There is no hint of deception in his voice as he speaks plainly, as though you should understand what he's saying.

"The effects of what?! What the fuck is happening right now?!" Your eyes meet Kelly's once again as she places a hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture while the other holds the syringe.

"Quinton, you may or may not believe me when I say this but you're being brainwashed."

"Duh! Are you working with Chris?! What're you gonna do to me?!" Kelly blinks a little in surprise.

"You know?" The man interjects.

"Know what?! Who the fuck are you?!" You ask once again, fully exasperated at this point. Kelly turns to her companion, rotating her torso while remaining crouched in front of you.

"It makes sense, he's the one he's really after. He wants to watch him squirm and probably lets him recall just enough to know something's happening." She says to the man, who looks at you again with an appraising look. Kelly turns back around to speak to you once more. "You've been noticing weird behavior, lost time, shit you can't explain right?"

"Yes! You believe me! Why doesn't anybody else see?!" A flash of memory returns to you. You see Morgan standing over you, You're tied down to a chair with tubes going in and out of you. There's a screen that's playing some kind of light show that dominates your focus. The bizarre memory fades quickly. "Morgan, she... Chris... I must... I must trust... I. I must... Chris is good now." You start to babble incoherently.

"Damn they really fucked your head up." Kelly says, with a worried expression.

"Give him the shot." Kelly turns once again to her male compatriot.

"I don't know how he'll react, I don't know how bad the dissonance is. What if he strokes out?"

"Then we dump him at a hospital and figure something else out."

"What the fuck are you gonna do to me?!" Kelly turns back to you.

"This..." She holds up the syringe. "Is a serum—don't ask what's in it, you don't want to know—that will reverse and block the effects of that crazy witch's mind control. I'm going to give you the shot, then play something for you on my phone that should scrub any triggers they implanted." Before you can object or think any further about this, she quickly and expertly grabs your head and tilts it to the side, immobilizing and revealing your neck. She jabs the needle directly into your carotid artery. You feel a cold sensation travel quickly to your head and back down your neck and throughout your body as the blue liquid disappears into you. You groan as your head begins to throb with increasing pressure and pain everytime you feel your heartbeat. The memory of Chris's revelation, seeing your mother watch them taunt you, emotionless, blank, when Molly grabbed your arm, watching the pretty lights on the screen in your mother's study, it all comes flying back into focus at once. You remember everything.

Kelly just manages to move out of the way as you vomit on the floor in front of you, stretching your shoulders painfully as you lean over. She quickly grabs a trash can from beneath the table and holds it in front of you before a second wave overtakes you and you cough up further contents of your stomach. Kelly holds your head forward, not allowing you to lean back, increasing the strain on your shoulders.

"Get him up!" She says quickly. The man whose name you still don't know moves quickly to help her, he hooks his arms underneath yours and unhooks you from the chair. He shifts his arms to support your torso as you rise and helps your drop as gently as possible to your knees, away from the first splatter of ugly green puke. Kelly continues to hold the trash can as you heave a few final times, wrists still cuffed behind your back. When you think you're done you sit up, breathing heavily, head still spinning uncontrollably with newly reacquired memories. Before you can get your mind around what you're experiencing, Kelly shoves a phone in your face. A flashing white light is pulsing out from the screen. You feel yourself emptying out of all compulsive thoughts that you now know were not your own.

After a minute or so, Kelly puts the phone away and walks quickly to the bag on the table once more. She grabs a pair of gloves and a little flashlight before heading back over to you. She opens one eye and shines the light in it while speaking in the same voice but you find its strange hold over you diminished.

"Quinton? How we doing? Do you understand me?"

"Yes." You reply in a hoarse whisper. She moves the light to your other eye.

"What's the name of the woman whose office we picked you up from?"

"Morgan."

"What's 2+87?" You pause for a moment before answering.

"89."

"What year is it?"

"2019." Kelly seems satisfied with your answers and gets back to her feet, leaving you to catch your breath on the floor. She removes her gloves and walks out of the room. The man is standing with his arms crossed again, eyeing you from the corner of the room once more. Kelly returns carrying a glass of water.

"If I uncuff you, are you gonna do anything stupid?" You look up at her and shake your head. She places the water on the table and grabs a key from her pocket. She leans over you and releases the cuffs on your wrists. Your shoulders creek as they finally release the tension and you rub your irritated skin where the cuffs chaffed you a little. Kelly undoes the shackles on your ankles as well before standing to retrieve the glass. She hands it to you and you accept it from above, still too weak to think about standing. You gulp it down greedily, enjoying its chilling effect on your irritated throat. After you're finished she takes the glass and sets on the table again. "Try to get back in the chair." You comply, rising to your feet just long enough to slouch weakly into the chair which creaks in response to the sudden load. The man moves back around in front of you as Kelly busies herself once more with the contents of her bag.

"Finally, we can talk." He says pointedly.